


People Forget

by breerann



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, I just love Ron as a brother, POV First Person, Present Tense, not sure if this is fluff or angst maybe it's both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breerann/pseuds/breerann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ron is a good brother.<br/>Alternately, in which Percy is a not so good brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	People Forget

_People forget_ , I tell myself as I stare down at the gift in my lap, horrified. I pick it up and pretend to examine it appreciatively, hoping no one notices my white-knuckle grip. It takes a good deal of the self-control I’ve developed over the years to not fling it across the room, anywhere away from me. I swallow the scream and vomit rising in my throat and take a deep breath. Looking up at the expectant faces of my family, I plaster a smile on my face.

“Thanks, Percy. I’ve been needing a new diary.” I wonder if it should worry me, how smoothly the lie falls from my lips, but Percy puffs up with pride. I expect my shorts to catch fire. _People forget_ , I repeat as I put the small, leather bound book on the floor beside me, careful to be nonchalant, and a tiny bit reverent. It seems expensive, and I know Percy must have spent a fair amount of his new salary on it. It is a nice gift, at least in theory.

I look up and catch Ron’s eye from the corner of the room. His brows are drawn together and his mouth is hanging open just slightly, the perfect picture of indignant shock, with traces of concern in his eyes. I reinforce my smile to reassure him and turn back to the presents in front of me. I pick up a small parcel wrapped in newspaper, recognizing the gift from Charlie that had arrived by owl a few days earlier. Opening it quickly, I find a delicate red and gold bracelet wrapped in a piece of parchment.

“Read it out loud, Ginny dear.” Mum encourages me.

“Dear Gin,” I pick up the parchment and follow my mother’s prompting. “Happy Birthday! I can’t believe you’re already 13. It seems like yesterday you were a little kid and now you’re practically all grown up. Time sure does fly.

“Enclosed is a bracelet I made for you from the shed scales of baby dragons. I hope you’re not too old for handmade gifts from your big brother. I chose red and gold so you’ll remember that you are a true Gryffindor and because the red represents your fiery passion and temper and the gold represents your good heart. These are two of the best things about you and don’t you ever forget.

“I’ll stop now before I get too sentimental because I know you hate that. Give my love to Mum and them. Your favorite brother, Charlie.” I roll up the parchment and slip the bracelet onto my wrist, fingering the delicate scales.

“What a load of bollocks!” Fred cries indignantly.

“Yeah, everyone knows we’re your favorite brothers!” Protests George.

“Oh, stop it, you two.” Mum glares softly at the twins as everyone else laughs.

I push the discarded paper off my lap so it covers the diary and enjoy the rest of the evening. Bill sends me a sickle and a note telling me not to spend it all in one place. Ron gives me a small box of sweets from Honeydukes and Fred and George give me some dung bombs from Zonko’s. My gift from Mum and Dad is a new dress that still has the markdown tag on it, but I pretend not to notice. The crowning glory of the evening is undoubtedly the cake Mum made for me in the shape of the logo for the Holyhead Harpies.

After we’ve eaten as much cake as we can, and then a little bit more, and cleaned up the paper in the family room I take my presents up to my room. I hang up the dress and add the sickle to my savings jar. I put the dung bombs in my trunk for when I go back to school and add the Honeydukes sweets to my stash under my bed. I throw the diary in the farthest corner of my closet and lock the door. When everything is put away I go back downstairs and sit by the fire with my family. I’m enjoying the way the light catches in my new bracelet when Ron jumps to his feet, startling everyone.

“I almost forgot,” he fixes me with a wide-eyed stare, “Hermione sent a gift for you by owl a few days ago. She’ll kill me if I don’t give it to you on your birthday. It’s up in my room, I’ll just run and bring it down.”

“I can come up, I’m getting tired anyways.” I want to spare Ron going all the way up to his room and then coming all the way back down.

“Yes, it’s quite late. Off to bed, all of you.” Mum gets up and shoos us all upstairs, ignoring the vocal protests of Fred and George. I continue past my second floor bedroom and follow Ron into his room at the top of the house.

“Here it is.” Ron pulls a prettily wrapped package that looks suspiciously like a book out of one of the many piles in his room and hands it to me. “She wanted to get you something because turning 13 is a big deal for Muggles or something like that.” He says by way of explanation.

“Well I am a teenager now.” I smile mischievously as I tear at the paper.

“Yeah, just don’t go and start acting like one.” He grumbles. “The last thing we need in this house is a moody teenage girl.”

“I reserve the right to be as moody as I please.”

The gift is a book as I had guessed. It’s a brand new copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3. Maybe not the most exciting present, but it’s something I’m sure to use and I’m grateful not to need Ron’s copy, which has belonged to all of our brothers before him.

“Typical Hermione, giving you a school book.” Ron sniffs when he sees the cover.

“At least not I don’t have to use your old one,” I sneer. “I bet it’s covered in your drool from falling asleep in class.”

I’m not sure what reminds Ron of Percy’s gift but his face softens abruptly. “You alright, Gin?” He asks, watching me carefully.

“Course I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be?” I play dumb, knowing exactly why I wouldn’t be alright.

“You know why.” His face darkens. “I cant’ believe that prat got you a diary. Stupid bloody git.”

“Oi, that’s our brother you’re talking about.” I shove Ron playfully and he smiles.

“We could always burn it, you know. No one would find out.” He offers.

“Actually, I was thinking I’d sell it.” I grin as I head for the door.

“G’night, Gin. Happy birthday.” Ron calls and I head down the stairs.

“Good night.” I’m smiling as I make my way to my room with the book from Hermione under one arm. _People forget_ , I tell myself. _Sometimes._


End file.
